Arranged Marriage to the Lycan King

3 -The Playboy King

ELARA’S POV

I looked at myself in the mirror. I had smudged some eyeliner around my blue eyes, making them seem larger, and used a hint of lip stain to make them more pink and appear fuller. Although makeup wasn’t commonplace in Bridgetown months ago, a Lycan trader with extravagant beauty products came, and I couldn’t help but purchase a couple of items.

I never had a reason to wear makeup before, though. I’d never set out to impress anyone, always keeping my head down and doing what I needed to do. But meeting James tonight, even though I wasn’t excited about what was to come, I thought I’d try to fancy myself up a bit. My hand smoothed down my navy blue dress, hugging my curves in “all the right places,” as Betty would say. She’d helped me pick it out earlier this afternoon. It also cost my pocket a pretty dime from my small savings over the years.

No one other than James and I knew about our plans. I couldn’t risk someone running to tell my father. If the Lycan King wanted a virgin bride, he wasn’t going to get it from me. I hoped it would deter him and change his mind about me, demanding a better-suited bride.

Not that I wished it on any other human, but I’m sure there would be someone else more enthusiastic about marrying the Lycan King. Based on whispers and snickers whenever the King was brought up, more than a few women found the man attractive. I’d never seen him myself before or even heard his voice. I’d only heard about him.

The Playboy King is what some called him. Saying that he took many to his bed but never to wed—using his body as a political play when it came to female leaders. The thought repulsed me. He was smooth, too smooth. They said he had a silver tongue. They could talk you right out of your own house and leave yourself homeless to appease him.

I wouldn’t let him get to me, though. I was stronger than some pretty words on the lips of a monster. If it wasn’t for Lycans, my mother would have had access to the medical care she needed and would have survived. I was sure of it. We never even truly knew what it was that she had fallen ill with because we didn’t have a proper hospital here, and my mother had insisted not to spend the little money we did have there.

My dad, being mayor, barely made ends meet. Hence my work out at the farms. Now, we were drowning in debt from my mother’s burial, but I still managed to squirrel away a little money that I now had to blow on a dress. I hoped I had enough to ride out of town to one of the other human villages.

But leaving Bridgerow was dangerous. Lands between the kingdoms were rife with old, decrepit buildings full of rebels and low-level scum between. Those refusing to live under Lycan rule had no issue harming humans to get what they wanted. I had considered running to a rebel settlement, but I wasn’t sure I could hack it. I wasn’t as brutal as I needed to be. I had too big of a heart, as Mary had told me repeatedly.

No, my best bet was to find a new kingdom. I’d go through this façade of marriage and be ready to run when the time came. A loud knocking at the door interrupted my thoughts. I ran outside my room, looking down to the lower level of our house, where my father stood, brushing his vest and slacks. He was dressed up. That meant whoever was on the side of that door was necessary.

I crept backward, making myself almost invisible as my father opened the door, a bright grin on his face. “King Theron!”

I shuddered, realizing my father had invited the King before the party. A deep, rumbling voice responded before I could see the face behind the voice. “Mayor Carter. Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

The voice sent shivers down my spine. I inched back further, not wanting to be caught gawking as the Lycan King came into view. I felt the air leave my lungs as I stared at him. Black hair fell down his shoulders; dark eyes pinned my father into place. His jawline was sharp, as were his cheekbones. He wore a dark, fitted t-shirt that stretched across his chest and clung to him. His jeans hugged his thighs and led down to black boots. He was beautiful. But he wasn’t dressed like a king. No, he was dressed like a man on a mission, and that mission was to corrupt me. The thought sent another chill down my spine, causing me to gasp.

Before I could be found out, I inched back toward my room, slipping inside and gently closing the door. But I kept my ear pressed to the door, trying to glean any information I could from their discussion.

“Why don’t you come into the study? I have some whiskey I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

I rolled my eyes. My father was trying to schmooze the King. But it was perfect because my room was directly above the study and had a vent leading straight there. I could hear everything discussed.

I slowly crept towards the vent, crouching so I was close enough to hear but in a position to run if need be. I heard footsteps, the door opening, and then voices.

“If you’d like me to call for her, I can bring my daughter to meet you now.”

“I’ll meet her at the celebration. No need to bother her now,” Theron responded.

A third voice, one to someone I hadn’t seen, spoke up. “Wouldn’t you like to see what the girl looks like?”

I imagined Theron shrugging as he spoke. “How she looks doesn’t matter to me.”

I scrunched up my face because I was nothing but a piece of meat to be bartered. I should remove the makeup and not let him see me like this. This had been intended for James’ sake, but if I saw the King tonight, I might choose a more homely appearance.

I stood, ready to start changing, but my father’s words had me pausing. “She’s quite beautiful, believe me. She looks just like her mother.”

I gulped, imagining him proudly pointing at the portrait he had of my mother on his desk. It was the only picture we had of her since printed pictures were rare in Bridgerow. I wondered if they had cameras and printers of the sort in Stonehaven. What differences were there between our cities?

Curiosity had me leaning in. “She’s gorgeous. You’re a lucky man.”

“Was. Was a lucky man,” my father sighed, hearing him placing the portrait back down on his desk. “Elara’s mother passed away from the Sickness.”

“The Sickness?” the third voice asked.

“It’s what we call what might be a common flu for you. On humans, it’s much harsher. 98% mortality rate.”

My eyes flashed angrily at him, having so little faith that she could have survived. She wasn’t terminal. It’s the Lycans that are to blame, not just some sickness. If we’d had the proper treatment, she would have survived; I was sure of it. My mother was strong. More potent than anyone I’d ever met.

The voice sending shivers down my spine spoke again. “That we have in common. I’ve also lost my mother. Recently.”

My father offered his condolences. Everyone was aware that the Queen had passed. This news called for a day of mourning, even observed here in Bridgetown. People took time off work, stayed home to be with their families, mourned the passing of a great leader, and officially handed the reins over to her son.

I listened intently as my name was mentioned again. “…Elara is quite educated. You’ll find her quite the conversationalist.”

I snorted. Yeah, right. I sure as hell wouldn’t be having many conversations with the King. I’d be hidden away, even in a closet if I had to, as often as I could manage. I wanted nothing to do with him or any other Lycan.

“Is she a virgin?” the third voice asked.

I imagined the flustered look on my father’s face as he sputtered. “Well, yes, I assume so. She’s never had…boyfriends. I’ve never met one. She only has a friend named James, and I don’t think she…”

Theron cut him off. “Rowan is a traditionalist, and our customs demand a virgin bride.”

I almost cried with glee. I was right. He wanted a virgin. And after tonight, I’d no longer be one. Maybe I could tell him before we were married so that the wedding wouldn’t occur. Then I could stay home, shrug my shoulders and say, ‘Oops.’ My father would be enraged but could never stay mad at me.

I clapped my hands together, giddy. Standing and brushing the dirt from my knees, I swirled around in a dance that no one could see—finally, a silver lining.